I'm Going to Stop Pretending
by sinverguenza
Summary: Peter Petrelli struggles against his less than familial feelings toward his niece. CANON PeterClaire. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Claire was a senior in high school. She liked to tell people that she had an acute case of senioritis, and she spent more time at Bergdorf's with her friends than in her blow-off classes. She was already accepted at NYU anyway. Sometimes she asked Peter to write her excuses for the office, and he would grumble, but take a pen out of his pocket and she'd tear a sheet of paper out of her notebook for him.

She brought her boyfriends to Thanksgiving dinner. Peter generally liked the boys she chose to date; affable and frank young men with blond hair and white teeth. Peter took many nice women out for dinner on Friday nights. Claire was kind to whatever woman was on his arm at political functions. They both posed in Christmas card photos that were sent out to political associates. They exchanged gifts at Christmas, ones like gift certificates and DVDs.

Claire's officially an adult now. She didn't try out for cheerleading this year. She went to a Killers concert. She moved her bedroom to the top floor of the Petrelli home, and painted the walls red.

-------

_If he could give her anything, anything in the world for Christmas, it would be a necklace he saw in the Village a few months ago. Peridot. It reminded him of her, somehow._

_But you don't give your niece jewelry for Christmas._

-------

Her prom dress was cream satin, and she spun around in the living room, showing it to Heidi and the boys. Peter's mom thought that it was inappropriate, too sexy, the way that the folds of her dress clung to her body. It was deeply cut in the back to show off the fine clefts of her shoulder blades and the curve of her lower back.

"Indecent," sneered her grandmother.

"Right," said Claire, threading an earring through her earlobe. "Well, I am a Petrelli," she said nastily to her grandmother, before catching Peter's eye with a smirk.

Usually he would have smiled back, but not tonight.

"Where's Chaz? It takes twice as long to get around in a limo, you know," said Heidi, bringing a boutonnière covered with plastic from the kitchen.

"I said not to come before seven so we could take pictures," said Claire.

"What a nice idea," said Heidi. "Peter?"

Peter picked up the camera from the coffee table, and peered through the little box. Claire kneeling with the boys. Claire and Heidi, laughing. Claire and her grandmother, who refused to smile.

"Heidi, take a picture of Peter and I now," said Claire, skipping forward to take the camera from his hands.

"No, don't," said Peter.

"Why not?" Claire's eyes were crinkling at him.

"Oh, take a picture with your niece, Peter." Heidi spoke in her best mother voice, and Peter let himself be pulled over to the mantle by Claire.

He stood with his left hand tucked into his pocket, his right resting lightly on a tanned, bare shoulder.

"Smile!" The camera flashed

When she snuggled deeper into the cleft of his arm and put her hand on his chest, he relented and slipped his hand around her waist.

"Ah," said Heidi, and the flash went off so many times that Peter had to blink. "That's adorable."

------

_He hides in Nathan's office before the doorbell can ring, and shuffles through the pictures on Heidi's camera. Just like he thought, the camera caught him glancing at Claire in one. His hair falls over his face, his dark eyes are fixated on the girl next to him. She smiles straight on into the camera, doesn't notice his stare._

_He deletes that one. And the one after it. He deletes all of the ones with him in it, except for the first one, the one where his arm was around her shoulder only._

-------

A few days later Claire was thumbing through samples for her graduation party invitations. Peter was sitting next to her on the couch. Occasionally she'd flip one at him and ask him what he thought.

Peter's face screwed up at the latest one. "No way, Claire. It looks like a dinner menu."

She started to reply when Nathan walked into the room, looking ready for war.

"Claire, this is not a wedding. This is not a show on MTV. It's your graduation, and I don't think you need anything this elaborate. Dinner with us, and I'll send you and your little friends on a cruise this summer, okay?"

She didn't say anything, just sighed heavily, and blew a piece of hair off of her face.

Nathan looked at his brother. Peter just shrugged.

"Talk her out of this, please," said Nathan exasperatedly.

"Nathan, come on," said Claire shortly as she pushed a pencil behind her ear.

"I'm not paying for this. Who's paying for this?" Nathan picked up a few of the invitations on the coffee table.

"You are!" Claire threw the invitations in her hand onto the table. "Heidi told me I could, and I think you owe me 16 years of birthday parties anyway, so let me go a little wild with my graduation party, okay?" And she stomped out of the room. Funny how loud size six shoes could sound on mahogany.

"Peter…" Nathan sank down onto the couch in the spot his daughter had just vacated. "What's the point of you being so damned close to her if you can't get her to listen to you?"

"I don't know why you think she'd listen to me any more than you."

Nathan sighed. "Oh, she does. She may not do what you say, but she always listens to you. I don't think she even hears what I'm saying about this ridiculous party."

Peter cleared his throat. "Well, I don't see what you have to object to…sure it's a little over the top, but nothing obnoxious."

Nathan rubbed his eyes. "Claire is an issue that my constituents would prefer not to have shoved in their faces."

"Claire isn't an _issue_, Nathan, she's your daughter," said Peter, and shook his head.

A loud slam echoed above their heads from Claire's bedroom door. Nathan winced.

"I know that…I guess sometimes, I just forget." Nathan spoke the words sincerely.

Peter leaned back onto the couch and crossed his arms. "You don't get it."

"Anyway," and Nathan changed the subject like a true politico. "Heidi says Claire was out all last week with this Chaz kid. What do you think of the guy?"

"Um. He seems nice. Decent. Mom says it's a good family," said Peter.

"Yeah, yeah. The Parsons, old money. She could do worse, I think."

Peter shifted, laughed weakly. "She's only eighteen. I don't think she's gonna be settling down anytime soon."

"Oh, probably not. But still. You never know, I guess," said Nathan as he stood up from the couch. "I'm going to grab a beer. You want one? Hey. Peter. Wake up. I said, do you want one?"

Peter shook his head, and Nathan rolled his eyes before he left the room. Peter was too busy wondering why his fingers were numb to notice.

------

_No one appreciates her like she should be. No one could ever love her the way she should be loved. No one is good enough; no one would do it right._

_He'd like to buy her a tower somewhere, safe from the ugly world that would wipe that little smile from her face. Rapunzel, with long blonde curls that smell like vanilla when he gets too close to her. She could keep the key, and let him visit sometime, maybe._

------

There were probably twenty of the little pink boxes lined up across the kitchen. Claire went down the line, flipping the top of them open.

"Jesus…" said Peter, and shook out of his black blazer. "I better get serious."

She laughed and smiled at him, the way that made him want to smile too. "No backing out. You said you'd help pick my graduation cake."

"I did," said Peter, and he nodded.

Claire had already dug into a red velvet cake. "Mmm. Too southern though. Not _New York_-ish. Grandma'd kill me."

Peter cut a small bite out of one with yellow frosting. "Yech. Lemon."

"You're right. It definitely needs to be richer," said Claire, and tapped her finger on her lips.

Peter turned away quickly and busied himself with a likely piece of German chocolate, when she appeared in front of him.

"Try," she said, and leaned on the counter, holding a forkful of cake out to him.

He took the fork from her, and slid the cake into his mouth.

"Eh," he said.

"Eh?" Claire was incredulous.

"Yes, eh!" Peter smiled and laughed quickly.

Claire tsked, and they were silent for a few minutes, chewing.

"Okay, here. This one." Claire held her fork out to him, level with his mouth. The cake was white, with a rose colored frosting.

Peter paused, and then dutifully ate from the fork in her hand. Claire watched his reaction, barely blinking. Peter chewed for a minute. "Mmph. Good."

Claire smiled and nodded, and moved to the next box, but not before she put the fork, the fork that he had eaten off of, in her mouth. She licked at a bit of the frosting, twisting the pink swirl around her tongue.

Peter watched for longer than he should have, and then told Claire that he needed to get going.

------

_Sometimes he dreams that his whole family disappears. Except for him and her. Where everyone they've ever known somehow is gone on a long vacation, or moves to Canada, or something._

_Which is ridiculous because he loves his family, so much. He'd never want them to disappear, and just the fact that he sometimes thinks about it makes him scared and paranoid because this isn't like him, not at all._

-----


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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She asked Peter politely if there's anyone he'd like to invite to her graduation party. She was sitting at the glass table in the breakfast nook. He had just walked in to get some orange juice.

"No, no one I can think of off the top of my head," said Peter, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"What about a date?" She is marking off names on her list.

"Nah, I don't want to mess with that."

"You sure?"

"I mean, at a family party and all," says Peter, and opened the refrigerator.

Claire nodded and didn't look up.

Peter grabbed a glass from the cupboard and started filling it. Her hair was pulled off of her face today, held back in a loose ponytail. The different shades of her curls twisted down through the strands, and slipped around her neck and over her shoulder.

"That's a lot of juice," said Claire, snapping Peter out of…whatever he had been doing.

Peter looked at the glass on the counter in front of him. It was one of the tall glasses, and he had filled it to the brim. "Yes, it is a lot of juice."

Claire looked at him and nodded condescendingly. "Sure is."

"I'm pretty thirsty though." Peter lifted the glass to his lips and started to gulp it.

"Right."

Claire was still giving him that "you idiot" look.

Peter cleared his throat, and could feel the cold juice sitting in his stomach, like lead. "Well. Seeya."

-----

_He searches, you could call it desperately, for any sign of himself in her. A familial bond apparent in her features, something that he can use as a point of reference when he looks at her to help him remember that he knows better._

_He doesn't find it though. She has blue-green eyes and blond hair. She has tiny feet and skin that tans like an almond in the summer. She doesn't look anything like him, or his brother for that matter. It doesn't help things. Not at all._

-------

Peter was waiting for his mother to get her coat. She had asked him to take her to the doctor this morning. Mrs. Petrelli was more than capable of taking a cab, but it seemed like the older she got, the more cantankerous she became.

Peter sat in the living room, in one of the antique mahogany chairs, his head in his hands. Peter had only just got off a shift, and was tired.

The sound of heels clicking down a staircase echoed behind him.

"Hey. What are you doing here so early?" Claire was wearing the uniform of her prep school – gray skirt, blue blazer.

"I'm taking mom to the doctor," said Peter. "Why aren't you at school yet?"

Claire pointed at the clock by the large flower arrangement. "It's not even eight."

Nathan walked through the hall door, straightening the cufflinks on his wrist. "Peter. Good morning. You taking mom to the doctor?"

Peter nodded, and his mother walked briskly into the room and to the door. "I'm ready, Peter."

"Could you guys drop me off at school?"

"Certainly," said Mrs. Petrelli briskly, and started through the door.

Peter didn't move. "I don't think we'll have time. Your appointment is at 8:30, right Mom?"

Mrs. Petrelli rolled her eyes. "You'll drop me off, then take Claire, and then come back to the doctor. It's all on the same route, Peter."

Peter didn't argue. Just followed his mother and niece out the door.

They were quiet on the ride there, his mother probably because she hated doctors and was nervous, Claire because she was half awake, rubbing her eyes in the backseat of his car.

Peter dropped his mother off and with a stern warning from her to not be late, he guided the car toward Claire's school.

Peter looked at her in his rear view mirror. "You look tired. You have a lot of schoolwork right now?"

She ran a hand through her hair ad leaned it on the side of the window, gazing at the street as it passed by her. "Nope. It's a joke. There's only a month left. We're watching _movies_ in most of my classes."

"Ah, that sucks."

"Yeah. Hey, I want to ask you a question," said Claire, and she sat forward in her seat, resting her fingers on the seat in front of her.

"Okay, shoot."

"Do you still do Parkman's thing?"

Peter's brow crinkled. "Parkman's thing? I'm not sure what you mean."

"The mind reading, you know. I wasn't sure if you could still do the power if the person you took it from was dead."

"It's faded a little since he died, but yeah, I can still do it, if I need to. I shut it off though, mostly. It's annoying."

He braked a little too abruptly at the front of her school. She slipped the strap of her messenger bag over her neck, and cracked the door open.

"I just wanted to tell you…you better not get into my brain. Ever," said Claire.

Peter chuckled. "Okay."

"No, I mean it." Claire spoke seriously to his eyes in the rear view mirror. "Stay out of there. I don't need anyone else messing around in there but me."

"I promise, I don't care which boy you have a crush on."

"Peter, I am not joking!" Claire frowned at him. "I don't want you there."

Peter sobered. "I won't. I don't. I don't listen to anyone's thoughts, it's rude."

"Alright," she said dubiously, and then her face broke into a smile. "Well, thanks for the ride. You better get back before your mom freaks out."

The drive back is crowded, and Peter honks at cabs that try to merge in front of him, throws his hands in the air when a messenger cuts him off, and mutters curse words under his breath at jaywalkers.

-----

_He pushes down some of the powers that live inside of him, so he can get up every day and not break into a million pieces. He squeezes them into tiny boxes in his body that are easy to tuck away and forget except when he needs them._

_He tries to tuck her away there too, and it should be easier because he knows that he doesn't need her, not really._

-----

Peter walked slowly up the stairs of this quiet brownstone. There were a few offices down crooked hallways, and he wound his way to the one that had a small brass faceplate with the number 323 on it.

He found the door, but the name on the faceplate was all wrong. Peter leaned close to the door, trying to hear if anyone was inside the office.

The door swung open, and Peter nearly fell onto the very large man that stood smiling at him.

"Hello, can I help you?" The man was tall, and he seemed to fill the small office behind him. His arms were wide and his belly protruded from his body several inches. He was brown-skinned, with a wide nose and very white teeth that were currently all on display just a few inches away from Peter.

"I was looking for a uh-Dr. Platte?"

The man at the door laughed. "He's not here. Come in, shut the door."

Peter closed the door softly, noticed the pair of bright green flip-flops by the door. "Nice shoes."

"Thanks." The man gestured to an overstuffed chair next to a couch. There was no desk, no leather chaise. Nothing that Peter thought a psychologist would have in his office.

The man sat on the couch. "My name's Tanielu Pahio, call me Tani though. I've known Dr. Platte for years, through conferences. He's actually on sabbatical in Hawaii at the moment. Staying at my house. He better keep it clean, eh? Anyway, I'm a psychologist too, and offered to take over his practice for awhile."

Tani gestured to the degrees on the wall, all emblazoned with his name, each bearing a header from the University of Hawaii.

"So, you traded?"

"Basically," said Tani.

"God, why are you here and not in Hawaii?" Peter had only been there twice, but he'd enjoyed it very much.

"I'm improving Hawaiian relations with the white people. That bounty hunter on TV, he makes us look bad," said Tani seriously.

Peter didn't know quite what to think for a split second, and then he laughed.

"Nah. I wanted to live in New York City for a while. People say you should at least once in your life." Tani smiled at Peter kindly.

Peter nodded and didn't say anything, thinking that Tani would start listing his rates, turn on a timer, something. But he just sat on the couch across from Peter with a pleasant look on his face.

"Well, I'm looking for some…counseling I think," said Peter after a few minutes of silence passed.

Tani nodded. "Have you had counseling before?"

"No."

"Okay. What were you wanting to address during your counseling?"

"…Anxiety," said Peter.

"Ah, I can see that. You seem like a nice guy. Nice guys worry. Well, lets talk a little now, and we'll schedule an hour for next week," said Tani.

"Sounds good," said Peter.

"And I'll put it right by my lunch break, so if you decide you don't want to work with me and cancel, I'll just get a long lunch that day. We both win, eh?"

-----

_A week ago, on the morning he drove her to school, he decided he was screwed up and needed someone to fix it. So he remembers the name of a psychologist that one of his saner patients had sworn by. _

_Instead of a pinchy geek with glasses he gets a big Hawaiian guy who makes him laugh. It's worse, so much worse. He likes the guy and doesn't want him to know what a sick fuck he is. But maybe he can help. Maybe he can make it go away._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: thanks, as always, for the reviews. it really keeps me motivated.

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"Peter, are you done? Are you there?"

Peter shook his head, and looked to the owner of the voice that had rattled him out of his latest space-off episode. "Sorry?"

"I said, are you done with that," and Heidi gestured to the delicate pieces of lemongrass that Peter was chopping in an attempt to help prepare Sunday dinner.

"Oh. Yeah. I'm done," said Peter.

"I swear. You're always in such a haze lately," said Heidi, and she stirred the pot of curry on the stove.

"I know. I'm stressed at work."

"Well, don't get too busy. Make sure to take time to enjoy the things you love," said Heidi, and she smiled at him.

Heidi seemed to rarely sit down these days. The house fairly crackled with her energy. She cooked meals, took singing lessons, and went out shopping by herself in the afternoon. Stuff she'd never done, before.

"You never seemed stressed anymore, since…" Peter's voice trailed off.

"Since the day I stood up from that stupid chair? It's okay. It doesn't bother me to talk about it." Heidi spooned the pot of curry onto a platter.

"Yeah, since then," said Peter.

"Well, I appreciate it. I know what it's like to watch from the sidelines, seeing everyone do things that I couldn't. I swore to myself that if I ever got better, I wouldn't waste a minute of it," said Heidi.

"A minute of what?"

Heidi set the spoon in her hand down, and her eyes that were so striking drifted to the windows behind Peter. "Life. My family. Love. Everything. I was so stupid, Peter. I had it all; right there, the whole time! And I wasted it for a lot of years."

"Anyway." Heidi started scooping pad thai into a glass dish. "Just don't you make the same mistake, okay? You hold onto the things you love, and don't worry about the little stuff."

Peter started to sprinkle the lemongrass he had just chopped onto the dish of pad thai.

"Wait, wait! Claire doesn't like lemongrass." Heidi grabbed a small bowl from one of the cupboards. "Give her some here without it."

-----

_Maybe it's the little speech about Not Wasting It, or it's his own pervy persuasion, or maybe it's both, but he gets a sick enjoyment out of dipping up pieces of food that he knows Claire is going to eat. He picks out the best morsels and places it in a little bowl for her, just so. _

_She won't know and she won't notice. That's fine. That's good. If nothing else, he can make things as best for her as he can. He's to the point where his apologies look like pleadings, and maybe they are the same thing now. _

-----

Movie theaters were a pain. Peter almost never went to them, because they're crowded and sticky and filled with people who cough. He liked to curl up on his couch in front of the DVD player instead, but try explaining to a ten year old why quiet living rooms are preferable.

That Sunday, the pad thai Sunday, his nephews were hot to see a movie that everyone was excited about. Heidi said that maybe Nathan could take them after dinner. Nathan promptly volunteered Peter for the job instead. And when he tried to say no, Nathan laid a guilt trip on him so thick that he only protested once, weakly, at that.

The boys cheered at the dinner table when he agreed. Nathan tried to give him some money, but Peter said it was his treat, really.

He grabbed his keys and was almost to the door when Heidi suggested that he take Claire too. Peter smirked and said that he was sure Claire had better things to do.

"I don't," she said, looking up from the magazine she had been reading. He didn't think she had been listening to the conversation. "I want to see it."

The car ride to the theater was filled with the chatter of his nephews, but Claire didn't say a word, just put on those big sunglasses that hid half her face, the ones that he hated.

He bought the tickets, and popcorn, and Claire corralled her brothers into the right theater. Peter found four spots together, and Claire pushed down the arms of the seats, set the right drink by the right boy.

Peter sighed and blew the hair off of his face. "DVD's, Claire. I'm telling you."

"But this is all part of the experience," she said, and reached for a handful of popcorn from the bag in his hand.

"Here," he said, and offered the bag to her.

"I only want a little," she said, and didn't take it.

"Just…" said Peter, and pushed the bag into her hand. "I don't even like it that much."

"Fine." Her fingers closed around it.

Peter scrunched down into his seat. His nephews were discussing the current on-screen advertisement. Claire looked straight ahead, methodically eating the popcorn.

"I thought you hated cartoons," said Peter, and his tone was embarrassingly accusatory.

"I sometimes do. But it's Sunday and I was bored." She shrugged.

"I thought you'd be out with…Chaz. Heidi says it's pretty serious," said Peter, and he stared at his knuckles.

Claire snorted and then tried to turn it into a cough, but Peter laughed anyway because he found her pig noises hilarious and somewhat endearing. He used to tease her about it, and she would laugh and punch him in the arm.

Her smile was nice to see. Then she sobered, and looked down at her lap. "No, Chaz and I broke up."

Peter stilled his body and managed a casual "Oh yeah? That sucks."

"Not really," said Claire, popping a few pieces of popcorn in her mouth. "He's a nice guy, but…not my type, really."

"I didn't know you had a type," said Peter.

"Oh, I do."

He desperately wanted to ask, but he didn't.

-----

_He can't concentrate on the movie. His mind wanders to places it shouldn't, places he orders it not to go. On the ride back she doesn't speak to him, gives him one word replies when he tries to talk to her. He doesn't know what she's mad about, and he's too afraid to ask._

_He hates how much he loved taking her to that movie, pretending in his own little way. He hates that the torture of ninety minutes in the dark next to her is enough to make him want to swear off films altogether._

-----

"So, you're anxious." Tani was wearing a bright yellow shirt, Capri pants, and Peter hadn't cancelled their appointment.

"Uh-huh."

"About?"

Peter paused for a moment, and gave one of the excuses he'd invented the night before. "I'm um, addicted to gambling. And I'm anxious. About it."

Tani nodded. He didn't ever write anything down, which Peter appreciated. "So the problem here isn't the anxiety, necessarily. It's the gambling, which causes the anxiety."

"I guess you could say that," said Peter.

"Where do you gamble? Atlantic City? Underground? You don't seem like the dog fighting type…"

"No, I gamble at home," said Peter.

"On the computer?"

"Yes."

"Of course I want to tell you to get rid of your computer. But that would mean I wouldn't get very much money out of you, would it? And of course, that wouldn't end the addiction," said Tani.

"I really can't just get rid of the computer. I have to find a way to stop how I feel about the gambling." Peter shifted uncomfortably. He hated lying, even about something like this.

Tani didn't say anything for a moment, and Peter hoped he didn't sense the cageyness surrounding his story. "If you want me to help you, you're going to have to be totally, balls-out honest with me."

"I will, I mean, I am. As honest as I can be, balls or not," said Peter.

Tani leaned back onto the couch, and gazed at Peter speculatively. Finally he sighed. "Okay, my brother. That's a fair promise, as good as I can ask for. So. Are you losing a lot of money with this gambling?"

"No, not really," said Peter. "Just time and…effort. I can't ever stop thinking about it."

"Well, admitting you're addicted is good. It's the hardest part. I'm going to say though, gambling addiction has the highest suicide rate of any addiction, including chemical ones," said Tani.

"I don't think I'm in any danger of that," said Peter.

"I don't feel that from you either, but I had to lay it out there. Gambling is treated like any other chemical addiction. The first step is to admit that you have no power over your addiction," said Tani. "Do you feel like you're at that place in your life?"

Peter lowered his head and thought quietly. "No. I'm not there."

"Why not?"

"Because I do have power over it. It's not much, but it's enough to keep me from royally screwing up," said Peter.

"But does it control your life? Do you have the ability to stay away from it if you want to?"

"Yes, absolutely. I never really…gamble. But I know it's there and that's bad enough. Just thinking about it," said Peter. "It drives me crazy, most days."

Tani rubbed his chin. "Hmm. Sounds like we're talking less about an addiction and more like an obsession. Hey, don't look so depressed. An obsession is an emotion, it's way easier than an addiction! You should be happy, man."

Peter heard the words but was not comforted.

-----

_Just hearing the word 'obsession' makes him think of nutty guys who live in cabins in Montana. He thinks about movies like Fatal Attraction and The Crush and he's incredibly freaked out by the thought of him, Peter-the-Obsessed, ever being that crazy. Maybe he is already and just doesn't know it._

_It's enough to put him off of her for two weeks. He avoids his brother's house in that time, avoids her. When he finally does see her on a Sunday afternoon, he feels the familiar churning in his stomach, and he knows that nothing, __**nothing**__ has changed._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Nathan called as Peter was getting off of work one night. He was ranting about something, and ordered him to come over. Peter was too tired to do anything more than mumble an assent.

So Peter shuffled up to the Petrelli home, still in his scrubs. And when he opened the front door, he was smack dab in the middle of World War III, the two factions being his niece and his brother.

The minute he walked in, Claire dashed over to him, and started arguing her case.

"Peter, tell him that my grad party isn't one of his retarded political functions! Tell him he can't do that to me!"

Peter looked at Nathan, who's face was very red and his suit jacket was off, sleeves rolled up. Never a good sign.

"She's being unreasonable, Peter. She can have the big party, but if she does, I have to have a guest list of at least 200. I thought she knew this. I can't have this big of a function and not invite certain people," said Nathan.

"It's _my_ party." Claire's arms were crossed and her eyes were glazed with tears. "I shouldn't have to invite your political people to the first real party I've had since I came here."

"Just listen to me for a minute!" Nathan paused, and took a deep breath. "A big party means you're my daughter officially, with all the bells and whistles, fully acknowledged. And I'm glad for that, I'm happy to do that." Claire scoffed. "But you've got to understand that it would be an insult to the people I work with if I didn't invite them."

"I thought the party was in like two weeks," said Peter confusedly.

"It is," said Claire. "I've got less than two weeks to basically re-plan the whole thing, but for 300 people this time."

"I told you I'd hire a planner. I'm more than happy to hire a planner," said Nathan, his hands open in exasperation.

"I don't want a planner! I want to have my party the way I wanted to have it," said Claire.

"And you can, just be realistic here," said Nathan.

Claire ignored her father and looked at Peter. "He called and cancelled at the place I wanted. He moved the party to a stupid hotel."

"The Four Seasons, Claire. Jesus," said Nathan. "And I tripled your budget. Isn't that enough?"

"You think I care about the money? I just want a party that's my own. We could have it at Showbiz Pizza for all I care," said Claire.

Nathan looked genuinely perplexed. "I thought you'd be happy about it."

"Whatever. It's not what I wanted." Claire turned to Peter. "He bought new invitations and everything, you know," and a tear sneaked down her cheek.

Two years ago Peter would have wiped it away. Instead he just stared at her for a minute, and then cleared his throat. "The Four Seasons is a really nice place, Claire. I think you'll like it---"

He couldn't finish his sentence before Claire gasped and pounded up the stairs to her room.

"Damn it, Nathan." Peter turned angrily to his brother. "Did you call me to come referee an argument?"

His brother sat heavily in his favorite leather chair. "Yes. Yes I did. Sometimes I wish I could just send her back to Bennett."

Peter frowned. "His memory of her is completely suppressed. It wouldn't be safe for them if she went back. Or for her."

"I know. I know that. But I'm not sure how much more of this I can take," said Nathan.

"Can't you handle this yourself? She's your daughter," said Peter.

"She won't listen to me." Nathan said it in a voice that told Peter he should have known that already. "You have to talk her through this."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but she's barely speaking to me these days," said Peter.

"She's a teenager. Moody and difficult. She's about to move out and she wants her independence. I get that. I just need her to listen to reason about this party," said Nathan.

"Just go talk to her. Please." Nathan put his arm on Peter's shoulder.

"Fine."

-----

_It's hard to say how difficult it is, to stand there and watch her cry, and know he can't defend her because if he does, everyone's going to know. _

_And now he's knocking on her door, the door to her room that he hasn't been in for months. _

-----

"Go away!" Peter heard Claire yell from inside her room.

"No. Open the door," said Peter.

"You took his side! You _always_ take his side!"

"I wasn't taking any side, Claire. I was just trying to explain to you," said Peter.

"Get away from me!" Claire and Peter used to have fairly regular shouting matches, and Peter was accustomed to hearing her screech at him. The weeks he had spent carefully avoiding her apparently hadn't created any unfamiliarity between them.

"I won't," said Peter sternly, and he felt his temper rising. "Open the door, Claire."

"Why? So you can try and make me feel better about having my party jacked by Nathan?"

"I just want to talk," said Peter, and twisted the handle of her door. Locked.

"NO! Get out of my life!"

D.L.'s face flashed briefly in his mind. Peter's fist shot through her door, and twisted the lock, which seemed marginally less rude than completely walking through the wall. He threw her door open.

Claire had been sitting on her bed, and she shot up from it to stand in front of Peter. "Get out," she said in a low, angry voice.

Peter slammed the door behind him. "God, you piss me off!"

"Yeah, well, right back at you! Get out of my room!" She shoved him on the shoulders.

"Just shut up and listen to me for a minute, will you?"

"No, I won't! You took his side over mine, Peter!" There were tears rolling down her cheeks now, and her face was pink. "You always take his side. You'd take everyone's side before you'd take mine!" And she pushed him again.

Peter grabbed her hands and held them down. "Stop it! That's not true and you know it. I've fought for you more than I've ever fought for anyone in my life!"

"What do you mean? You couldn't move fast enough to back up your brother! I haven't seen you for weeks. Clearly I'm somewhere near the bottom on the list of people you give a shit about. It's always been like that!"

Peter didn't mean to lose his temper, but he was tired, and frustrated, and it all came boiling out at once.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" He dropped her hands, and grabbed her by the shoulders. "I came to save you in Texas when I didn't even know your name! I jumped off a building for you, Claire! I work every day to keep you safe!"

Claire didn't say anything, and the anger slowly seeped from her face. "What do you mean?"

Peter let go of her shoulders and took a step backward. "Nothing. I mean, I don't want bad things to happen to you, okay?"

They were both silent for a moment, the fury in the room slowly simmering down to a dull stillness.

"About your party," said Peter, and he thought for a second about how to say what he wanted to best.

As he did, he glanced at Claire's room. It was the first time he had seen her new room. The walls were a shocking color of crimson, and the floor was a mess – littered with clothes and shoes and magazines. He used to spend a lot of time with her in her room when she was younger, watching movies, listening to music, talking.

Peter's forced himself to focus on the task at hand. "Is there some sort of compromise we can come up with?"

"Well, I'd rather not, but it looks like I'm not getting what I want," said Claire nastily.

Peter said nothing.

She sighed, and her eyes darted back and forth. "I want to go on a cruise in Hawaii after graduation. With my friends, like Nathan promised."

"I'm sure he'll do that."

"And I want you to help me at the party," said Claire.

"Me? Why? I don't know anything about parties."

"All I want you to do is keep Nathan and his stupid guests away from me that night," said Claire.

Peter sighed. "Alright. But would you go down and tell Nathan the deal? There's no reason to keep a fight going."

Claire turned away from Peter, and sat at her vanity. She fiddled with a few bottles that were lined up there. "You can do that."

"Claire…"

"No. No. I'm basically turning my graduation party, which has been planned for months, into a political rally for Nathan. So he can just deal with me being mad at him for awhile," said Claire.

"Life is too short for grudges," said Peter.

"Thanks, so much, for that. I really needed to hear that tonight," said Claire sarcastically.

"Wait, I'm sorry - geez."

"Just go." The look that Claire gave him in the mirror was, he swore, the same one she gave him in the car mirror two months ago, when she told him to stay out of her thoughts.

He did what she asked him to. Just slipped out the door, and clicked it shut softly.

-----

_He can beat death, blow up the world, stop time and space, and kill a man with his brain. He can fry an egg on the palm of his hand, be invisible, and read the mind of anyone, if he thinks hard enough. He can win the lottery a hundred times over and be the richest man on the planet. He can fly._

_But it seems to him that he can't do anything he really wants to._

-----

Peter didn't lift his head up when Tani sat down in the familiar chair in front of him.

"You look sad today," said Tani "Are you?"

"No." Peter sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Just tired."

"Were you up late…gambling?"

Peter thought for a minute. There was no reason to suppress what happened last night. For the most part at least.

"No, I was just out late at my brother's."

"Your family. We haven't talked about them much," said Tani. "Are you close to your brother?"

Peter nodded. "My mom lives with him too."

"Is your brother married?"

"Yeah, with two kids…great kids. Boys. They're fun. And, uh, he has an eighteen-year-old too."

"You like your sister-in-law?"

"She's great. Too good for my brother," said Peter with a chuckle.

Tani nodded. "And are you at their place often?"

"No, not usually. I mean, I go over on Sundays, for dinner," said Peter.

"So, what was so special about last night?"

Red lights were blinking rapidly in Peter's head, but he chose his words carefully. "My brother got into a pretty bad fight with the oldest kid. He asked me to come help."

Tani faked a look of shock. "Like, back up? One of you holds, the other punches?"

Peter grinned. "Nah. I haven't beaten anyone up lately. And anyway, his oldest is a girl."

"Ah, I see. Sorry. I guess I thought – anyway. So why did your brother call you to help?"

Peter shifted in his seat. "Um, I think that my brother thinks I get along well with her. That she listens to me."

"Does she?"

"She used to," said Peter, and it was a strain to keep his forehead from wrinkling.

Tani nodded slowly, and probably would have asked some more questions, if his three o' clock appointment hadn't opened Tani's door, making Peter stand up in a hurry and apologize for going over time.

-----

_What was supposed to be an effort to fix his 'gambling' problem becomes just another person that he has to hide things from, watch what he says and how. He decides he can't take it this week and cancels his appointment. Says he has a summer cold._

_He tells his brother he's got a cold too, and can't make it on Sunday. On Saturday night he orders a pizza and watches Braveheart in his pajamas. He reads Coleridge in an act of self-flagellation and drinks a whole bottle of wine. He bucks up on Sunday afternoon and writes a note reminding himself to take his tux to the cleaner before Claire's party on Saturday._


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

---------

The girls were wearing silk formals and too much hairspray, mascara thick on their eyelashes. The boys were stuffed into suits with three pieces. They were all whispering to their classmates during the valedictorian's mumbling speech, faces flushed with the excitement of officially graduating.

Claire however, sat quietly and seemed to be listening. Her hair was loose, and tumbled over her tanned shoulders. She was dressed in a white cotton sundress and sandals, the little red pin on the strap of her dress denoting her status as graduate.

Mrs. Petrelli fanned herself with the graduation program and whispered to Peter. "Is there no air conditioning in this place?"

"I don't think so. It's an older building."

His nephews were fidgeting, until Heidi shushed them and said, "Your sister is graduating! Pay attention!"

Nathan was on his other side, wearing a crisply pressed suit. He had paused to speak with some associates on the way into the auditorium. Heidi had begged him not to talk shop for too long, and he'd barely made it to his seat in time.

Heidi leaned over her husband and tapped Peter on the arm. "Here," she said, and handed Peter the camera. "You've got a better shot at Claire."

Much like the sun, Peter avoided looking at Claire unless he absolutely had to. But he dutifully took the camera, and focused it on his niece. He zoomed in and snapped a few pictures, but not too many.

When they called her name and she walked across the stage, he pressed record. She stood out like silver and gold against the backdrop of her peers who completely faded compared to her, it seemed to Peter.

His family all applauded, but Peter just looked through the camera. Again.

-----

_After the graduation, but before the dinner at Nathan's, Peter checks his email. He's applied to a couple places in L.A., and the HR people are emailing him every week, every day, to come work for them. The health care shortage there is insane. The money he's being offered is mind-boggling._

_His existence in New York is unbearable. Since he can't seem to fix it, or himself, then the only option he sees is to leave. _

-----

Peter pushed his feet onto the floor of the cab. "Come on, man, its Saturday! There's no traffic, or cops. Can't you hurry it up any?"

The cabby didn't say anything, just nodded his head.

Peter sighed and looked out the window. It was twilight, and he was going to be late for his niece's graduation party.

The Four Seasons was the go to place for any of the New York elite. Peter had attended weddings, wakes, Bar Mitzvahs, and anniversaries there. He knew each of the rooms intimately, even thought he was starting to be on familiar terms with the wait staff.

But Peter barely recognized the Cosmopolitan Suite when he walked in. A small wooden bridge made the centerpiece of the room, with two wall fountains framing either side. Beyond that was the parquet dance floor. Branches of cherry blossoms stretched overhead, and the band was playing at a level tolerable to the older contingent that was sitting at the tables around the room.

"Looks like Rob Marshall puked in here, huh?"

"Claire." Peter turned to his niece. She was wearing a satin party dress. It was bright yellow, and strapless. Her hair was twisted onto the top of her head, and held in place with two bright green sticks.

"You're late," said Claire.

"Sorry. The cab was slow."

Claire nodded and sipped at the cup of punch in her hand. "It's okay. Just don't forget to keep that," and she nodded to a society maven wearing watered silk, "away from me."

"You got it," said Peter. "Hey, it looks really great in here. Did you plan it?"

"Sort of. I said I liked cherry blossoms. They kind of went from there," she said.

"Claire, you gotta dance this one with me!" A tall boy that had already discarded his suit jacket caught Claire by the elbow. She shrugged and handed her punch cup to Peter.

Claire was on the dance floor for almost two hours straight. Once she caught Peter's eye, and waved at him to come in. He shook his head.

Peter lingered by the water fountain, chatting with people that he knew. He had a perfectly valid excuse to keep his eyes on Claire that night, but he was trying his best not to.

He was grateful when Lionel Darby, son of one of the City Council members, came over to chat. He genuinely liked the guy, had attended NYU with him for a while.

"Darby. I thought you were in L.A.," said Peter, and clapped a hand on his old friends back, grateful for the distraction.

"I am, I'm just back for the weekend. Mom's got a new boyfriend, and it sounds like it's ser-i-ous. So I came to check it out. How the hell are you, Peter?"

"Doing good, good. So, you approve of the guy?"

Lionel smiled. "Yeah, he's a good dude. Maybe I'll bring him around before we go. Anyway, why are you standing over here? It can't be for the ladies and you're on the wrong side of the room for the bar."

"Eh, I'm running interference for my niece," said Peter, and pointed at Claire on the dance floor.

"That's real decent of you, man. Poor kid. Bet she didn't want all these old people here," said Lionel.

"Nah, she didn't. She didn't grow up with it, you know…she doesn't really get what the whole thing's about," said Peter.

A political kid himself, Lionel nodded with understanding. "You still doing the nurse thing?"

"Yeah," said Peter, and he took a large gulp of his drink. "Actually, I might be moving out your way sometime soon."

"No shit?" Lionel grinned. "That'd be great! I could help you get set up if you come. I live in Costa Mesa. Nice place. Lots of room."

"Well, nothing's for sure, yet. I've applied, but I haven't said yes," said Peter.

"Bet you got a lot of offers. Medical field's big out there now, you know," said Lionel. "Hey, is this the niece? Congratulations, girl."

Lionel gestured behind Peter, who turned to find Claire. "Yeah, that's me, " said Claire, and smiled.

"Lionel, Claire," Peter gestured to his friend, and then back. "Claire, Lionel. You done dancing?"

"Nope, I'm just thirsty, and I don't know how to get through that," she said, gesturing to the sea of tables filled with people that separated her and the punch bowl, "without getting my cheeks pinched every two feet."

"Well, I better leave you two to navigate that mess. Good luck to you, young lady. Call me when you come to L.A., Peter. You're gonna love it there," said Lionel, and he left.

Claire turned to Peter. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," said Peter.

"Hey, sorry! I'm here now." One of Claire's friends skipped up to her. Peter steered Claire and her giggly friend through the maze of people, successfully avoiding any of the gossiping ladies that would have grabbed Claire's arm.

Claire and her friend drank the punch while whispering to each other the whole time. Peter found himself ignored completely, which was more than fine with him. Still, it was hard not to say anything when Chaz, Claire's ex, came to chat, and stood way too close to Claire, in Peter's opinion.

When the girls were ready to dive back into the sweaty mob of teenagers, Peter scouted a route that avoided anything bigger than a few shouted congratulations. Nathan cocked his head at Peter across the room, motioning to bring Claire over. Peter just shrugged and kept walking.

The room was getting hot, and Peter took off the jacket of his tux and rolled up the sleeves.

A few minutes later, Nathan made his way over to Peter. "Having a good time?"

"No. Are you?"

Nathan smiled and sipped from his glass. "The Senator is here. Claire should really come meet her before she takes off."

"Aw, Nathan, leave her alone," said Peter. "Look at her. She's having good time, and she was already more than a good sport about this whole thing."

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Fine. Well, most of us fogies seem to be retiring, so I think we're going to take off here in a minute."

"Alright. Seeya," said Peter, raising a hand at his brother.

More guests left, though very few of them were under the age of twenty. Nearly all of Claire's friends remained on the dance floor.

The band did mostly covers of stuff that Claire liked, and he was amazed at the energy that the kids on the dance floor possessed. He'd been like that too, ten years ago. It made him feel out of place, and a bit old.

Peter leaned over the rail of the little bridge, his hands clasped.

The song the band started playing next was one he'd heard pounding down from Claire's bedroom a couple times. The lights from the stage bathed those on the dance floor in a white glow.

He was trying so hard not to stare at the dance floor, at the light that reflected off a certain set of shoulders.

The singer scrunched his face when he reached for the high notes.

"_Don't you want to come with me…"_

Claire's hands were above her head.

_"Don't you want to feel my bones on your bones…"_

She twisted her body slowly, starting from her shoulders, down to her waist.

_"It's only natural…"_

He was staring, and he knew it. And he couldn't stop.

_"Don't you want to swim with me..."_

Her friend whispered in her ear, and she laughed, a wide smile passing over her face.

_"Don't you want to feel my skin on your skin…"_

Her eyes met his, and he quickly looked away.

_"It's only natural…"_

The song ended, finally. Peter rubbed his forehead. He needed a drink. Badly.

"Peter, are you awake? I've called your name like twenty times, man. We're taking off, but I wanted to introduce you to my mom's new man. Peter Petrelli, this is Tani Pahio." Lionel was beaming, and had his arm around a very large Hawaiian guy that Peter happened to know quite well already.

------

_Tani. Mortifying was the only word for it. It's not like Tani had embarrassed him in front of his friend though, or even let on that they knew each other. When introduced, Tani'd shook his hand and said nice to meet you, a real pro._

_As for her…he doesn't know who taught her to move like that, but he doesn't like it. He swears, later, that the only reason he was watching her was out of shock. He hopes she didn't see him watching at all._

-----

Peter dreaded his appointment with Tani this week. He longed to cancel, but Peter wasn't a wimp, and he made himself show up at the same time as usual.

But the look on Tani's face when he came into his office made Peter nervous.

"I'm gonna get a little rough with you today, Peter." Tani sat down heavily onto his chair.

Peter had no reaction.

"But I think you can handle it. And I know that you know, even if I'm a big mean man sometimes, that I like you a lot. You're a good guy, Peter, not one of the bad ones."

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Peter.

"Nah. Trust me, my brother, you're on the good side. You're also a smart guy, so I know you're familiar with the concept of a metaphor, right?"

Peter nodded.

"Well, in therapy, metaphors…they do us no good. They teach us not to use them, in school. Too hard for people to understand, for people to apply to their situations. Trouble is, metaphors are hard for us, the shrinks, to understand too. I can't help if I don't know the truth. Even if you're embarrassed, or ashamed."

Peter's arms were tingling.

Tani sighed. "You see where I'm going with this? I'm never going to tell your secrets. I'm never gonna judge you for something you feel. So, if there are any metaphors that we should clear up, I'd like you to do it today."

Peter's arms were tingling enough to be a slightly numb, and he thought he felt a little lightheaded.

Tani smiled. "Right now would be a good—"

Peter interrupted Tani, and blurted, "I'm in love. With my niece. My niece, Claire."

Tani nodded. "The one at the party."

"Yeah."

"So I take it the obsession you have isn't with gambling…it's your niece?"

"I think about her a lot. I think about her pretty much all the time, actually."

"What do you think about?"

"Everything. I want to touch her. I want to kiss her. I want to make love to her," said Peter. "I just want to be with her."

"And you can't because…"

"She's my niece. Not even a step-niece, because that wouldn't be so bad. No, she's my blood, my blood relative," said Peter.

"So you know it's wrong," said Tani.

"Absolutely. I hate myself for it. Every day." Peter couldn't feel his arms.

"Have you ever touched her?"

"No. Not like that."

Tani looked like he was concentrating. "How long have you been having these feelings?"

"Awhile. Months. Maybe a year. It never felt like she was a niece, though. When I met her, I didn't know she was my niece," said Peter.

"She was sixteen when you met her, correct?"

Feeling had returned to Peter's arms, and he was fairly certain that blood was pumping to his brain again. "Yeah, she was sixteen. How did you know?

"I'll admit that I Googled your brother the day after the party," said Tani. "I had my suspicions. Hope that doesn't make you mad."

"It's fine. But how did you know I was lying, about Claire?"

"Ah, Peter," said Tani, and he kicked his flip-flops off. "You were kinda obvious at the party, at least when I saw you. I don't think anyone else would've noticed, but your whole gambling story was always fishy to me. Two and two…"

"Ah, great. So everyone saw," said Peter miserably.

"Honestly, I don't think anyone could tell. I know you, Peter, better than most of the people there. And I knew you were obsessed with something, something that you knew was bad for you."

Tani chuckled. "And then I saw you looking at some girl in a yellow dress like she was a frosted cupcake and you were starving. I asked who she was. Lionel told me. That's all."

"It wasn't that I didn't trust you, Tani…I'm just…I'm a sick bastard, basically. A real pervert. I didn't want you to think that about me," said Peter.

Tani smiled, and his face looked as pleasant as ever. How he was smiling was a mystery to Peter.

"Peter, I told you. I'm not judging you on this at all. It's pretty common, you know, GSA. To develop feelings for a relative that you didn't meet until adulthood. Very common." Tani clicked the pen in his hand several times. "People just don't like to talk about it."

"That's not to say I'm encouraging it. I think you two are messing around with some heavy consequences. The reason family members don't date is when things go bad in the relationship, then what?"

Peter shook his head. "Wait. Us two?"

"Yes. You and Claire can have each other, or your family. Never both. Doesn't work. And you could end up with neither, eventually," said Tani.

"What?" Peter was confused.

"Just remember that it's one thing for you two to have these feelings," said Tani. "We can't help our feelings, they just are. But it's another thing completely to act on those feelings."

"Tani, Claire doesn't know how I feel. She has no clue," said Peter. "We're not together."

"Oh." Tani looked genuinely surprised, and a lame silence passed for what seemed like ages. "Ah. Well. That's a very different situation. Ah. Hmm."

It was just hitting Peter, what he'd actually admitted out loud (and to himself, really) for the very first time. He didn't know if he was going to run out of the room at lightening speed, or just curl up and pass out. It felt like he had just absorbed Ted's power all over again, and Peter was filled with heat and an energy that he didn't know what to do with.

"You're the one that has to be strong, then, Peter. You're the one that's going to have to nip it in the bud," said Tani.

"I haven't done anything. I'm not going to. She's never going to know," said Peter.

Tani looked at Peter warily, Peter had never seen him look so serious. When Tani spoke his voice was laced with pity. "I truly don't think you would do that. That doesn't mean…that the opportunity won't present itself at some point."

Tani sat forward in his chair, and spoke gravely.

"You have to be ready. You have to be ready to say no."

-----

_He can't believe that he told Tani, is __**so**__ mad at himself for opening up about it. He doesn't know what came over him, why he came out with it like that. He's worked hard at hiding it from everyone, including himself, and in one weak moment, all that effort is gone._

_But Tani's not going to tell anyone. And neither is he. As far as he's concerned, this secret goes to both their graves. With any luck, Peter's grave is going to be in California. He just accepted a position with a private firm there. As for visits…he'll come late and leave early once a year for Christmas. And that'll be the end of that._

-----

A/N – The song that is playing at the graduation party is 'Bones' by The Killers. There are six lines from the song quoted. No infringement intended.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

----------

_He gets a call from Heidi, early some morning. His niece needs someone to take her to Freshman Preview at NYU on Saturday. Peter went there, so he's already familiar with it. Would he mind?_

_He tells Heidi no, of course not, but he texts his niece about an hour before he's supposed to pick her up, saying sorry, but he got held at work, and can't make it. She'll be mad but who cares. He's out of here next week anyway._

-----

"Los Angeles?" Peter's mother put a hand to her chest.

"Why do you want to move there?" Nathan made a face. He hated L.A.

"Disneyland!" His oldest nephew shrieked.

"The money," said Peter, and he pushed his fork at the food left on his plate. "The money's great. And I'm ready for a change."

"You'll meet a blonde bimbo and my granddaughters will get boob jobs at fourteen," said Mrs. Petrelli.

"Oh, come on," said Heidi sarcastically, or as sarcastic as she got.

"What's a boob job?" The littlest one piped up.

"It's a chore. Are you volunteering?" Mrs. Petrelli spoke icily.

The boy's eyes got big. "No, ma'am."

Nathan laughed. "We'll miss having you around, Peter. You won't mind if I don't come and visit much, will you? You'll just have to come back to here a lot."

Peter fidgeted in his seat. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Well, I know someone who's going to miss you a lot." Heidi touched the arm of the girl next to her. Claire's head was bowed. She was already not speaking to him for flaking out on Freshman Preview, which he deserved, he guessed. He still hadn't been able to apologize to her.

"When are you thinking of moving?" His mother spoke sourly, but her face looked resigned.

Peter hadn't looked at his niece yet, couldn't bring himself to. When he finally met her eyes across the table, he was blasted by a look of pure hatred. He wasn't being dramatic or facetious. Claire, his niece, was looking at him right now as if she despised his very presence. If she'd been driving a car at that moment, he was pretty sure she'd swerve to hit him.

It nearly knocked the wind out of him.

"Peter. Mom asked when you were moving, " said Nathan.

"Um, as soon as I can," said Peter. "I told them two weeks. It'll take me at least that long to get everything taken care of and get settled in."

A tear fell off of Claire's chin, and she abruptly pushed her chair back from the table and headed for the stairs.

Nathan sighed.

A moment later the door to Claire's room slammed over their heads.

"That girl. Every time she gets mad she runs up the stairs and slams that door. She shakes a pound of plaster off every time," said Nathan. "Heidi, I am not exaggerating. Last week a piece of the crown molding fell off in my office. I blame that door."

"Oh, Nathan, she's upset," said Heidi, and she smiled sadly. "She doesn't want her uncle to move. You know how special he is to her."

"It's a good things she's headed to NYU this fall. If Peter isn't here to talk her out of her pouting spells, we'd probably kill each other," said Nathan.

"She'll like college," said Peter softly.

"Everything's changing. Everyone's moving," said Heidi a little wistfully.

"Heidi, it's a couple hours by plane. Long distance living isn't what it used to be," said Nathan.

"Oh, I know. It'll be so strange, though, not to have Peter here on Sundays. Or Claire, for that matter." Heidi laughed. "I'm just so used to seeing the two of them, sitting on the couch, laughing at something, or watching a movie or arguing over the last soda. It'll be strange when they're gone."

"It'll much more quiet when they're gone," said his mother, and she frowned fiercely, and then eased her mouth into an almost-smile. "I'll miss you, my son, but it's as Nathan said. You're only a short flight away," she said, and raised her glass of wine.

"You really do have to come home often, little brother," said Nathan.

"To, Peter. To…his new beginning," said Heidi.

"Here here!" One of the boys lifted their glass of lemonade, and everyone laughed. They all touched their glasses together, and smiled.

They argued over Peter's apartment; Heidi, his mother, and Nathan all knew someone who needed one. Nathan hinted gently at Peter putting in campaign appearances for him on the West Coast, which Peter quickly nipped in the bud. They toasted him twice more, with increasingly ridiculous salutations. Everyone seemed happy for Peter.

Peter drank deeply, and filled up his glass twice when no one was looking. He had to go talk to her, or try to talk to her, at least. And Peter knew he'd need an edge or two knocked off for that to happen without some serious damage to the house, let alone Nathan's crown molding.

-----

Peter heard the clunking all the way from the landing of the stairs. He sighed, and ran his hands through his hair.

He walked slowly up to Claire's room. Her room was fairly isolated from the rest of the house. The third floor was dark and the room she was in had originally been built as maid's quarters, and was very small.

Her door was open, and there was a cardboard box in the middle of the hallway, filled with books, papers a bunch of random things.

"Claire?" Peter peeked his head around her door.

"Yes, Peter?" She spoke in a singsong voice.

"Are we having a yard sale?"

"No, Peter, we're not," said Claire sweetly.

"Then, uh, what are you doing?" Peter picked up a notebook from the box at his feet.

"Well, Peter, I am putting everything that you ever gave me, or that I remotely associate with you, in these," said Claire, and she gestured to the stack of boxes by her bed.

"And then, I am going to burn them in the street. Or in your apartment, your new one. Or maybe on your goddamned _face_!" Claire yelled at Peter. "What are you doing? Moving? You're moving?"

"It's for the best," said Peter.

"What are you going to do in L.A.?" She said the city name like it was a disease.

"The same thing I do here, Claire. I work. I go out on the weekends. I do my laundry, God, I don't know! I'll live my life. With a lot more money."

"Shut up." Claire spoke with that same hard glint of hatred in her eyes. "This isn't about money. You could make all the money you wanted in an hour."

"Unethically," said Peter sarcastically.

"Still!" Claire threw a shirt at the box by Peter's feet. She missed, and Peter bent to put it in the box.

"I didn't buy you this thing," said Peter as he looked at the shirt. "I don't think I've ever even seen you wear this."

"I wore it the day we saw _Children of Men_," said Claire coldly.

That day. She'd cried through almost the whole thing, till he had to give her his jacket to mop her face with, and patted her arm comfortingly.

"That was…years ago," said Peter.

"Yeah. Whatever. I want it gone now," said Claire. She threw something with extra force by Peter's feet. It was a silver bracelet, something he gave her for her birthday a couple years ago. The only time he gave her jewelry.

"Claire, this is ridiculous."

"No, here's what's ridiculous. The fact that you're still standing here! Go away. Go pack or something," said Claire.

"You don't need to throw all your stuff out, just because you're a mad at me right now," said Peter.

"What, this stuff?" Claire spread her arms open and looked around her room. "It's just stuff."

Claire picked up her old cheerleading uniform, the bloodstained one from the first night she met Peter. "These are just memories. Parts of my life that I love and are irreplaceable. Watch how easy I can forget about them!"

Claire was crying as she threw her uniform into a box. "Watch how easy I can pretend they don't exist!"

Claire stared at him angrily for a minute, and then took a deep breath. She wiped her cheeks quickly with her fists. When she spoke it was much more calm. "Anyway, I'm not mad at you, Peter. Why should I be mad? You only lied to me about the fact that you were moving, and you _knew it_!"

"I didn't lie to you," said Peter. He'd never seen her this angry. And he had seen her a whole lot of angry.

"You've done nothing _but_ lie to me." She stood up and walked over to him, then jutted her face into his. "I heard you tell your friend about it at my party! I heard him say that you were going to like L.A., and I asked you about it. You told me, do you remember? Huh?"

Peter just looked at Claire but didn't answer.

"That's right Peter. That's what you said." Claire nodded her head sarcastically, and raised her hand, palm upturned, toward him. "You said, 'Nothing'. Like you always do."

"I didn't know for sure at the time," said Peter flatly.

Claire laughed mockingly as she dragged her CD tower into the center of her room. She sat with her back to Peter, and started tossing cases, Frisbee style, at a box by her feet. "Well, that's a good excuse. Spring it on me now, and give me a whole two weeks to let it sink in."

"Actually…" Peter rubbed his neck. "I'm hoping to get out of here in a couple days."

There was a long pause, and then he heard Claire scoff. "You want to get out of here." She looked over her shoulder. "That'll just make everything okay, won't it?"

Peter leaned one arm on the doorjamb. "Hey I don't know what the hell you're talking about. In four months you go to NYU, and you won't be around anymore either. You're going to have better things to do than watch TiVo with me."

Claire stood and walked over to Peter. "That is not what I am talking about. And you know it."

"I'm sorry?"

"You owe me something," said Claire tersely. "You know what. Don't make me say it."

An apology. Peter had forgotten. He took his arm off the door. "You're right. I'm sorry, Claire, about Freshman Preview. I hope you were able to find your way around."

"Huh?" Claire looked baffled.

"Saturday? I had to work and couldn't take you to NYU?"

She took a step forward, closer to his body, and stared deeply into his eyes. He fought the urge to draw back. Claire cast her eyes heavenward and started to laugh, bitterly. "You think I'm mad about that, about the stupid Preview?"

"What else is there to be mad at me about?" Peter ran through the last few days in his mind. He hadn't even seen Claire in like a week. What could he have done?

"Oh, nothing! Nothing at all." She assumed that fake-sweet voice that she used at the beginning of their little fight.

"Uh," said Peter. "I think I'm confused."

"You better go, Peter," said Claire briskly, and started sorting through her CDs again. "Go home. I've got stuff to do."

"Claire, come on, I don't want to leave it like this," said Peter.

She stood and walked to her door. "Like what? If you say there's no problem, then there isn't." She stared at him again for a long moment. "That is the way we're playing this game, right?"

Before he could reply, she shut her door in his face. Hard.

-----

_He considers opening her door, but decides not to. There's no point. He can't help but pick up her cheerleading uniform from the box at his feet, though. He remembers that day, remembers every facet of her hair, the curve of her cheek, the way her lips pursed over her teeth as she smiled at him._

_He drops it back into the box, with the rest of their memories, and leaves._

-----


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

----------------

"So, you're taking off?"

"Yeah, tomorrow morning. Early flight."

"That was pretty quick," said Tani.

"I really…think it's for the best," said Peter.

Tani nodded. "How did your family take the news?"

"My brother was fine with it. My mom seemed a little sad, but she's okay. Claire…well. She wasn't too pleased."

"What did she say?"

Peter was wearing an old pair of jeans and a ratty t-shirt. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out onto the couch, his fingers laced over his eyes. "Sorry man, I'm just tired. I've been getting rid of most of my stuff and moving. All that."

"It's okay, I did it too. I know how much work it is," said Tani, as he opened and closed his left hand.

"It's really kind of depressing, how much stuff I actually kept. Some pictures, some books. It's not much," said Peter.

"Sounds like that bothers you," said Tani.

"You know, it kind of does," said Peter thoughtfully.

"Maybe you think you should have more possessions?"

"No, I don't think that's it," said Peter. "Maybe it's just that I have so little attachment to any of it."

"Well, that's a good thing, right?"

"I guess," said Peter.

"Peter, you're the kind of person who gets satisfaction out of relationships with family and friends, not from things. Don't you think?"

Peter nodded.

"I asked you earlier how Claire took it. Want to talk about it?"

"There's not too much to say," said Peter. "She looked at me like I was an evil monster, and then she yelled at me, cried, yelled at me again, and threw away everything in her room that reminded her of me."

Tani sighed. "Peter, this is our last session, and I've gotta say, I feel like I haven't helped you at all."

Peter sat up to protest, but Tani raised a hand. "I consider that my failure, not yours. I'll be honest. I haven't known exactly how to…" Tani paused and rubbed his chest, "…how to advise you. I mean to say, it's a situation that is rather unique, and the research I've done on it has very…mixed results."

"I know you can't fix it. Honestly, just talking about it has been really helpful," said Peter.

Tani nodded.

"I mean, it more or less made me know what I have to do. I have to leave. Get out of the situation."

Tani nodded again. "I'm going to miss our sessions." He struggled to his feet, breathing heavily. "Let me give you my email address. We can stay in touch." Tani started shuffling through some papers on a small table by the window.

"I'm horrible at replying to emails," said Peter.

Tani smiled, but didn't chuckle like he normally would have. "You and me both, my brother," said Tani, and he started to write on a piece of paper.

Tani squinted at the paper, and his face got very red. "Hey, you're really broken up about me leaving," said Peter jokingly.

Tani didn't look up, or even acknowledge that he'd heard him.

"You okay?"

Tani's eyes rolled back in his head, and his body slumped over the table and onto the floor, sending books and papers flying.

"Oh, my god!" Peter rushed over to the man, pulling his cell phone out. "I need an ambulance to 90 Rivington, number 323. Tani, stay with me, man," said Peter, and he dropped the phone.

Tani's eyes turned from the ceiling to Peter's. His bottom lip was blushing a dark blue.

He briefly thought of Sylar. The minute Peter's hands hit Tani's shoulders, he could see the problem, see where the machine was broken. A blood clot was in the left side of his heart.

Peter pressed one index finger on Tani's chest. "Hold on, Tani," said Peter, and he shook his head. He'd never done this before, but Tani didn't have any time, and Peter was his best bet.

Peter centered his thoughts on the tiny clot of blood, willing it to liquefy. He was careful to limit his mind to the offending particle only, not the veins or vital muscle that was pressed around it.

His brow furrowed as he concentrated. And then…Peter felt the clot fly apart, into a million tiny bits of cell.

"Tani…you okay? You awake, man?" Peter turned Tani's face to his. His brown skin was beaded with sweat, but his eyes were lucid.

"You…saved my life," Tani whispered.

"No, I didn't," said Peter. "You were just lucky."

Tani tried to sit up. "Hey, take it easy for a minute, okay?" Peter grabbed a pillow off the couch and tucked it under Tani's head. During that time his brain wracked itself for an explanation for his actions. He had nothing.

"Peter," said Tani, and he grabbed onto the younger man's arm. "You healed me. You put your finger on my chest, and you healed me."

Peter didn't say anything, just smiled unsteadily and shook his head slightly.

"That's your power? It's so cool. All I can do is make people to talk. Ain't that a bitch," said Tani weakly, just before the paramedics burst into his office.

-----

_He goes when the medics ask if he's riding along. Tani is in pretty good shape and wants to walk, but they insist on strapping him down. Somehow they maneuver the gurney down the stairs and into the ambulance._

_At the hospital, Peter calls Lionel. Tani's pronounced fit as a fiddle, but they want to keep him overnight for observation. Lionel asks a lot of questions, but Peter is eager to get off of the phone. He can't wait to get into Tani's room and have a little chat._

-----

"Knock-knock," said Peter as he cracked the door to Tani's room.

"Hey," said Tani, and set aside the magazine on his lap. "Wondered when you'd get here."

Peter entered the room and sat on edge of Tani's bed, his hands in his pockets. "So you…"

"Yeah. My whole life."

Peter was so stunned that he didn't know quite what to say.

"I couldn't control it at first though, and people never shut up around me," said Tani, and he grinned.

"Do you use it on your patients? Do you-did you use it on me?"

"Hold on. I don't use it unless I have to. I learned a long time ago that what most people have to say isn't so unique," said Tani. "They've all got secrets that they think are awful."

"That being said, Peter, I'll level. I did use it on you once. When you were trying to tell me about Claire and were having trouble spitting it out. I had already figured our about you and Claire. You just needed to say it out loud."

Peter nodded. "You're in the right profession."

"For sure. Funny how things sometimes aren't really real until we say it out loud. But people don't tell me things that they don't want me to know. Only the stuff they want to. I just make it easier for them to actually say it," said Tani.

"I'm so stupid!" Peter stood up from the bed, and put his hands on his head. " I thought my arms were shaking because I was nervous!"

"What do you mean?"

"I was absorbing your power. See, I don't heal people. I mean, I can. But my power is… I don't really have a power, actually. My power is other people's power. I can kinda, well, mimic what they can do, if I think about them."

"So, if you've met anyone else with a power, you can do what they do?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, unless they contain it. Like you do."

Tani widened his eyes. "Wow, and I thought you had a sweet deal with the healing thing."

"It has its downsides. I can only leave a couple on, so to speak, at one time. Any more than that and I'd blow up. Literally," said Peter.

Tani shook his head. "It's a good thing you're not a bad guy, Peter."

Peter heard voices outside Tani's door, and then Lionel's mother came in the room. "Oh sorry, I'll get out of your way here," said Peter.

"No rush," said Tani, and he held up a hand. He spoke solemnly to Lionel's mother. "This man, right here, saved my life. I'd be dead, or on tubes now if he weren't around." Tani choked up, and held his hand out to Peter. "My brother. _No kau a kau_. I'll miss you, man."

-----

_That night, the night before he leaves, he has one last dinner with his family. They go to Le Bernardin and it's going to be a really nice evening until Nathan's family walks in without Claire. Out with her friends, says Nathan. She's upset about it, he says; shrugs, smiles, and finally dismisses._

_Peter drives to Nathan's house after, to say goodbye. He's leaving early in the morning. Nathan insists on driving him to the airport, even though he could very easily take a cab. He kisses his mother, who cries, and Heidi, who cries too, and hugs the boys. He lingers, but she doesn't come, and he finally gives up and heads to his apartment. He hates that his last memory of her is the wounded look in her eyes before she slammed her door shut_.

-----

The movers were coming for the big stuff – his bed, his electronics, the boxes that he had piled neatly by his door. He was taking two big suitcases with him, on the plane.

Peter yawned. It wasn't yet six, and the early morning light did little to shake Peter out of sleepiness. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Yeah?"

"I'm out front," said Nathan, his voice crackling. "Can you come down?"

Peter awkwardly rolled his suitcases into the elevator and through the lobby. When he got to the front of his building, he saw Nathan in the driver's seat of his black Lexus.

In the backseat of the car was a blonde head of hair.

Nathan waved him over, and Claire turned, her face toward him. She slowly smiled at him and he was sure that the relief he felt was all over his face.

"Morning," said Nathan, when Peter slid into the front seat of the car. "Claire wanted to come along."

"I brought you this," said Claire, and handed him a cup from Starbucks.

He looked at her eyes in the rear view mirror. "Thanks, Claire."

She looked down quickly, and didn't say anything.

Nathan chuckled. "Coffee _and_ an early morning wake-up? I think she must feel bad for being a brat last night."

"I do," said Claire softly.

"It's fine," said Peter, and he met her eyes in the mirror again.

On the way to the airport, Nathan's cell phone rang over and over, and he was arguing loudly with his chief of staff. Some sort of crisis, somebody said something, and a press release was being formulated. Peter sipped from his cup quietly. He could tell from Nathan's nonchalant mood that Peter's relocation to the West Coast meant nothing more than an inconvenient plane ride to him.

But to Peter it all felt very, very permanent.

The airport was already bustling when Nathan pulled up to the side of the curb. Peter hopped out, and Nathan put the car in park to help him pull the bags out of the trunk.

"Hey, the entrance is over there," said Peter, pointing at the doors to the airport.

"For God's sake, Peter, use the skycap would you? You'd never manage two suitcases. This thing weighs a ton," said Nathan.

Peter grinned, and brought his bag to the skycap booth. He clapped a hand onto Nathan's arm. "You take care of me, big brother."

Nathan pulled his brother into a hug. "You're coming back to visit, right? Often?"

Peter grinned mildly at his brother when they pulled apart. "You got it."

Behind him, Peter heard a car door open.

"Let me tip," said Nathan.

"I can get it," said Peter, and reached for his wallet.

"No. It's nothing. Say goodbye to Claire." Nathan paused and looked at his brother with a half-smile on his face. "I'll miss you, you know."

"Yeah, I know," said Peter sarcastically, and his brother laughed before going to pay the skycap.

When he turned to face Claire, he didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. He didn't think he'd ever seen her look so small, standing there on the pavement. Her hair was loose, and she was wearing a pair of jeans and a hoodie.

"It's gonna be too hot for that jacket today," said Peter.

"I know. But the morning's cold," said Claire, and took a few steps toward him.

"I was with you when you bought that. Remember?"

"I know," said Claire, and she stared at her sneakers.

"How'd it survived the bonfire?" Peter was trying to keep this as light as he could.

Claire scoffed. "I didn't burn anything. I was just mad that day," said Claire. She paused and then lifted her face sadly. "Peter, are you really doing this?"

"Yes. I am," said Peter.

"I don't want you to go," said Claire, and her face crumpled. "Please. Just don't. Don't go."

Peter heard Nathan's voice from far away, yelling into his cell phone.

Claire covered her nose and mouth with her hands, and started to cry.

"Hey," said Peter, and he put his hands on her shoulders, still maintaining a respectful distance. "Don't cry, okay? It's okay."

"No, it's not," said Claire miserably. "I need you. Please, don't leave me…" She pushed herself against him and clutched onto his arms with her hands.

She might have said more, but Peter didn't hear it. His reaction should have been to pull away, to fold his arms primly and give her an awkward little side-hug.

The next time they met they would be like strangers, and he wouldn't ever stay in New York long enough to change that. But he found he couldn't deny himself this; a farewell punctuated by the permanent. Especially when she had so eagerly entered his embrace.

Peter wrapped his arms around Claire's waist, and his hands slid up her back. Her hair tickled his fingers. He couldn't help running his hands over the ends of her curls.

Nathan was still shouting into the phone in the background. Some part of him made sure of that before he drew Claire to him, until he held her flush against his body. He felt her trembling in his arms, felt her grasping the back of his shirt and tugging him closer to her.

"Please," she whispered, her breath on his cheek. "Just stay here with me…"

Peter gripped onto her jacket roughly before he pressed her lower back to his body. His arms wrapped around her tightly, holding her, never wanting to let her go. The hug had clearly moved past goodbye and into an inappropriate area that, unfortunately, felt more than right to Peter.

He inhaled deeply. Before he could think about how much it was going to hurt, Peter let go of her.

"Seeya, Claire," he said, with a tremor in his voice. Peter kept his head down, and refused to meet her eyes.

He turned and waved at his brother. Nathan raised his hand, distracted, and smiled.

Peter was careful to keep his gaze straight ahead as he walked into the airport.

-----

_He hopes that that hug is enough to get him through the rest of life. It's all he thinks about, morning, noon, and night. She's all he thinks about, and it's been two months._

_One more please and he wouldn't have been able to let go._

-----

A/N - please, i know this is sad, but don't kill me. the story isn't done. thanks again for all the wonderful reviews. they're great motivation.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

---------------

The rest of June was a freebie. Peter was busy every day, either at work or trying to sort through his belongings. He had a million things to do and no time in which to do them. He got a little post-war apartment in Pasadena that had ivy growing up the side of it. The black and white prints from his old place made Peter feel, sometimes, like not much had changed.

Eventually though, the bustle of the new move was gone, leaving him alone, in his apartment, with his thoughts. It was torture, without the distraction of friends and family at least, that New York had had. He felt very isolated in Los Angeles. Everything was so spread out, and Peter didn't know the city.

He saw Lionel a couple times. He'd introduced Peter to his group of friends one night during happy hour. Peter liked them. They were the new millennium yuppies that worked hard, played hard, and took the term 'sexual olympics' to new heights.

"Peter, man, what do you do all day? Go to work, go home, go to sleep, repeat?" Lionel asked him incredulously one day.

"I work a lot," said Peter.

He didn't though.

July was hot. Much hotter than New York. He closed the blinds in his apartment, and left only when he had to.

Peter was living, but not feeling. He spent a lot of time on the couch in front of the television in his apartment.

Lionel's friends didn't get why Peter never went clubbing with them. They thought maybe he had a girlfriend, but Peter said no, he wasn't dating anyone. When he went to the bathroom, one of the louder guys asked Lionel if Peter was a twink. Lionel's loud laughter was enough of an answer.

August was muggy, L.A. wasn't as dirty as New York, sure, but the smog filled his lungs, and some days Peter felt like he was choking on every breath.

He heard her voice in the background during a call from Nathan, and the longing he felt rush through his bones resonated for days.

-----

_This is rock bottom. _

_He tries to get used to it._

-----

It wasn't quite eleven at night when his cell phone started vibrating on his nightstand. Peter pulled the phone under the sheets.

"Hello?"

"Peter!" It was Nathan, sounding very angry.

Peter pulled the sheet off of his face. "Nathan, what's up?"

"Well, how's this for the actions of a responsible eighteen-year-old. I just got a call from Claire–" Nathan interrupted himself. "-I told you that this week she was going on that cruise in Hawaii with her little friends, right? The one I said she could have during that big graduation party mess?"

"Yeah, I remember. Go on," said Peter.

"Anyway, she was on the 7:00 flight with a forty-five minute layover in LAX. Or she was supposed to be! She just called; she missed that flight, and rebooked on the 8:45 flight…"

Claire was going to be in L.A.

"…only now she's missed her red eye to Honolulu, _and_ she rebooked herself for the Honolulu flight tomorrow afternoon. Which is absolutely _asinine_, because she'll be overnight in L.A. now, and I could have got her on a flight on another airline tonight…"

Peter sat up.

"…so, long story short, I've got a big favor. Can you go pick her up at LAX in an hour? Have her stay with you tonight, and take her to the airport tomorrow? Or I guess she can take a cab."

The phone crackled in Peter's ear.

"Peter, you there?"

"Yeah," said Peter, trying to sound upbeat. "You sure she wouldn't just rather get a hotel? There's some nice ones right by the airport-"

"Are you joking?" Nathan asked seriously.

"Not really," said Peter.

"She can't go to a hotel on her own, Peter. In a town she doesn't know? All by herself? That's incredibly dangerous," said Nathan.

"You're right. You are right," said Peter, his brow furrowed. Just because she couldn't be killed doesn't mean she couldn't be harmed.

"Either way, I'm sorry to dump this on you, I know it's your day off tomorrow. I'll owe you one though," said Nathan.

Peter sighed. "Okay. Which airline is she on?"

He scribbled the information onto the pad by his bed, and made a whirlwind spin through the apartment, cleaning up his dinner plate from last night before he threw himself into the shower.

Peter eased his car into the short-term lot, and walked briskly into the terminal. He checked the arrival times by the baggage claim and looked at his watch.

LAX was always crowded, and next to him a couple was hugging one another goodbye. He tried not to let himself be reminded of other airport farewells.

Any minute, she'd be coming down the escalator that was directly in front of him.

He hadn't had any time to consider what that meant.

Peter checked his watch again and…when he looked up, he saw Claire tripping lightly down the escalator in a pair of jeans and a tank top, carrying a large canvas bag on her shoulder. She had the huge sunglasses on again.

"Hi," she said shortly as she walked to stand in front of him. She lifted the glasses off of her face and tucked them onto her head.

"Hey," said Peter, so idiotically happy to see her that the three months of separation nearly disappeared from his mind.

She gave him a small smile. "You look well."

"Thanks," said Peter, and he didn't say anything. Just looked at her, his eyes lingering on her features. "You too."

Peter cleared his throat. "So. Should we get your bag?"

Claire shook her head. "It went on the flight before me. All I've got is this," she said, and gestured to the bag on her shoulder.

Peter motioned to take the bag, but she waved his hand away. "Yeah, what happened with that," said Peter.

"Missing the flight? I didn't mean to," said Claire defensively, as they headed to the parking lot.

"I didn't think you did."

"Well, I just went to get something to eat…and I guess I lost track of time," said Claire.

Peter looked at his niece. "You ditz."

She smiled and punched his arm lightly.

"So what about your friends? They just got on the plane without you?"

"I guess. Liz left a bunch of messages on my phone, wondering where I was," said Claire.

"Are you going to miss your boat?"

"Nope. It doesn't leave for three days, so I'm all good," said Claire. Peter clicked the lock on his car, and they got in.

"Are you hungry?" Peter asked.

"Mm, no. I'm good," said Claire.

"I've got some stuff at my house, I don't think you'd like any of it," said Peter.

"I'm not hungry," said Claire.

"Yeah, but you could be later."

Claire shook her head. "Uh, look do you want to get something to eat? I said, I'm not hungry."

Peter gripped the steering wheel. "No. I'm good."

Claire pressed her face to the window for most of the ride to his place. "So many lights…do you love it here?"

Peter paused. "S'okay."

"I think I'd love it here," said Claire. "I miss the warm weather. Winter in New York sucks. Remember when the furnace broke at Nathan's last year?"

Peter remembered, but didn't say anything.

"Here it is," said Peter, pulling onto the street in front of his apartment.

"Oh, it's cool. Kinda old," said Claire.

"It acts old too," said Peter sarcastically. "I like it though, I really do. It's got…character."

Claire nodded as they walked the steps to his apartment. "Character is very important."

"So. You can have my room, and I'll take the couch." Peter fumbled as he unlocked the door to his place. "I'll get you some blankets and all that."

"Okay."

Peter flipped the lights on. "Ta-da."

Claire walked into the room, and dropped her bag by the door. "Nice," she said, and flopped onto the couch.

Peter remained standing. "Well, it's pretty late – really late for you, and you've got a long flight tomorrow…"

Claire blinked at Peter.

"…so I guess you'll want to get to sleep," finished Peter lamely.

Claire fiddled with the bottom of her shirt for a long moment.

"Claire?"

"I heard you. But I'm not tired yet," she said. "And we need to talk."

Peter swallowed. "About?"

"About us," said Claire, and turned to look at her uncle.

"What is there to say?"

"There's a lot to say. And I have been waiting…waiting for ages. And I'm tired of it," said Claire.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Peter brusquely, and started to walk to his bedroom.

"Don't walk away from me, Peter!" Claire jumped up from the couch and grabbed

Peter's arm, spinning him, forcing him to look at her. "I am not an idiot! For a long time I thought I was maybe imagining it, but I am _not_," said Claire heatedly.

Peter pulled his arm free from her grasp and turned away.

"You love me, and I want to hear you say it," said Claire angrily. "You owe me it."

"Of course I love you, Claire," said Peter mechanically. "You're my niece."

Claire scoffed. "We're back to this again. You know, if you weren't so damned afraid – look at yourself, Peter! You're shaking like a leaf! You're terrified!"

Peter saw no other option other than continuing to play dumb. "What do I have to be afraid of?"

"Me, for one! Your feelings. But most of all, you're afraid to disappoint your brother and your mom."

"Look, do you know what you're even talking about? Do you know what they would think if they even knew we were having this conversation?" said Peter angrily.

"So you're willing to sacrifice your happiness, and mine, just so they won't be mad about something that wasn't their business to begin with?"

Peter longed desperately to delve into her mind and find out just what she meant by her happiness. With Tani's power it would be even faster. But he refrained.

Peter shook his head. "You say that now, but you're young and—"

She interrupted him savagely. "Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence, Peter Petrelli."

"Fine."

"Tell me. I want to hear you say it," said Claire

"No," whispered Peter.

"Why not?" Claire asked him pleadingly.

Peter paused. "Because it's not really real unless we say it out loud."

"Yes it is," said Claire in a choked voice. "It's real even if you don't want it to be. I don't know if you've noticed, but its not going away."

"It will, with time," said Peter.

"How do you know?"

"Because I am staying here. And you'll be in New York or somewhere far away, until we die and this whole stupid story is over."

"Peter, I am not dying anytime soon. And neither are you, probably. I'm not sure if you've forgotten, but we can't be killed," said Claire.

Peter turned his head away from her and folded his arms.

"I'm not sure you and I can avoid each other for the next billion years," said Claire sarcastically.

"Do you think I haven't tried?" Peter yelled, losing his temper. "You think I haven't tried everything I could think of to make it go away?"

Claire looked at him angrily. "Why does it have to go away?"

"Claire, do you hear yourself? Do you know what you're saying?"

"Yes I do!" She was shouting now too. "I've had plenty of time to think about it while I waited for you to say it! I waited for so long! Till I turned 18, till I graduated from high school and when waiting didn't work I ignored you, and that didn't work either." She took a deep and tremulous breath.

"I even begged you, Peter. At the airport. I begged you not to leave me, and you did!" She wiped her cheeks angrily. "I don't have anyone who cares about me, now. Nathan likes me, but I'm not like a kid. My dad doesn't even remember me. And you left like it was no big deal."

"How the—how do you know if it was a big deal for me?" Peter thought of all the tortuous nights he'd spent thinking about her.

"I just wish I could forget you as easily as you forget me," said Claire.

Peter grabbed her by the shoulders, his chest heaving with anger. "You have no idea what the _hell_ you're talking about."

Claire looked at him angrily. "You say it. Say it now. You owe it to me!"

"Owe you? _Owe you_? You keep saying that, and I don't know what you're talking about. What do I owe you? I don't owe you anything, Claire."

"You made promises to me. Ones that you didn't keep," said Claire.

Peter's voice shook with emotion. "I _never_ made you promises."

"Yes, you did! You made a promise in every look, in every smile, in every word you never said to me," said Claire.

Peter stared at her, and the blood drained from his face. Then he picked her bag up from by the door. "I'm taking you to Lionel's house."

"What?"

"You can't stay here tonight. Or you can stay here, and I'll go to a hotel," said Peter, and he put his hand on the doorknob.

Claire rushed over and flattened her back against the door. "No, you're not running away from me again," said Claire angrily.

"What do you want from me, Claire? You want me to tell you I'm in love with you? That I'm miserable without you, that I think about you every minute? You want me to say that I'm in love with my niece?"

"Yes, but that's not enough," said Claire, and tears were streaming down her cheeks. "You have to stop pretending that you don't love me!"

"Fine!" Peter threw her bag onto the floor savagely, lipstick and pens scattering in its wake. "I'm going to stop pretending!"

And then he pulled her face to his.

-----

_Oh, God, he's kissing her and it's – it's the best thing he's ever felt. She moans into his mouth and for the life of him he can't remember why they didn't do this earlier. He wraps his arms around her and bumps her into the door accidentally. He tries to say sorry but she grabs him around the neck when he pulls away in the slightest, forces his lips back to hers. He tips her head a little so he can push his tongue deeper into her mouth. He can't believe it. She tastes as good as he always imagined._

_He pushes his hands into her hair, and mumbles words that he's always wanted to say to her in her ear. He touches her back over her shirt, and then under. She kisses his chin and puts her palms on his chest. He smoothes his lips down her neck and she gasps and says his name. When her hands trail lower he somehow manages to drag them both to his bed, because the first time he makes love to her sure as hell isn't going to be in a hallway._


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

---------------

The next day was sunny, and Peter opened the curtains in his room for the first time in two months.

The light from the window filtered over the body of a lovely girl who was currently tangled up in his sheets.

She was perfect. He liked how she looked, naked, in his bed. Like she belonged there. Her body was lightly tanned and beautifully shaped. Her lips were slack with sleep, and her small fingers clung to her pillow.

He slipped back into the bed, and leaned against the headboard. It was early; but he didn't feel tired, even though he'd scarcely slept the night before.

Claire sighed and snuggled to his side.

He no longer needed sleep, or food, or any other sort of mortal sustenance. He had Claire, and that was enough.

Last night had been…incredible. And incredibly painful in many ways.

Everything had changed.

He reached down to the girl curled up against him, her hair spilling over his chest and waist. He brushed her bangs off of her forehead, and she shifted in her sleep.

Everything was still the same.

Claire's eyelashes, so dark, fluttered and she rolled onto her back.

"Hi," said Peter.

"Mmph."

Peter slid his hands under the sheets, and over her torso. He kissed the side of head, then down her neck.

"Why're you awake," she said groggily.

"Because it's morning," said Peter, as he kissed the cleft of her collarbone.

Claire yawned with her hands above her head, and rested them over his shoulders. "It's too early."

"It's not."

Claire cracked one eyelid at the clock next to his bed.

"It's nine. That's early," said Claire.

He rolled to crouch over her. "Maybe for lazy teenagers," teased Peter.

Claire opened both of her eyes, slowly. She looked above her, at Peter and then smiled. "You're happy." She reached up to touch his face with her hand. He caught it, and kissed her palm.

After a moment, Peter answered her. "Of course I'm happy."

Happy? He was ecstatic, having trouble keeping a big stupid grin off of his face. Every cliché about love was absolutely true. Coleridge was no longer wordy and obtuse. James Blunt songs didn't seem so pussy anymore.

"I just thought you'd have a big freak out…that you'd regret this," said Claire.

"No," said Peter with finality. He'd decided that this morning, when he woke up with her legs around his. "Do you?"

"No! God, no," said Claire, pulling him down to lie on top of her. Her legs spread beneath him, and she kissed him, slowly, languorously. Claire was an incredible kisser.

"Geez, Claire," said Peter roughly.

"What?"

Peter shook his head. He didn't think it was possible to put into words the way she affected him.

Claire slapped his shoulder. "You gave me that look, that one right there, all the time. Tell me what it means," she said, with a grin on her face.

"It means, 'I'm going to go to hell for what I'm feeling right about now'," said Peter.

She laughed and nipped him behind the ear. "Afraid for your eternal soul?"

"And yours," said Peter.

"Not anymore?"

"No, not anymore," said Peter.

"Why? I mean I'm not complaining…but why?"

"Because it wasn't doing any good," said Peter.

"I still knew," said Claire with an air of superiority.

"Yes, you did," said Peter, and pressed his lips to the spot where her hair met her temple. "How did you?"

"It wasn't hard, mmm…" said Claire, and he felt her toes curl. "I just…felt it, you know? And you stared at me a lot. And you didn't like my boyfriends."

"I thought I acted like I did pretty well."

"I hate to tell you this," said Claire, and she spread her legs apart just a little more. "But you're pretty much the worst liar in the world."

"You're sneaky enough for the both of us. You missed your flight on purpose yesterday. Admit it," said Peter.

She gave him an impish expression and tickled his waist. He held her hands together, and then kissed her deeply.

When Claire drew away, she looked into his eyes sincerely. "I'm glad, you know. That you didn't change your mind."

Peter shook his head, and leaned his head onto her breast. "I couldn't, even if I wanted to. Not after last night."

"Why?"

He raised his head. "I've had you now. I can't let you go, ever again."

Her brows crumpled and for a second, he thought she was going to cry. But then her face smoothed and she smiled at him tremulously.

"Tell me what I'm thinking," said Claire.

"I don't know."

"Can't you read thoughts anymore?"

"I can…but you told me not to, remember?" Peter kissed just under her cheekbones once, then twice.

"I remember," said Claire.

"Why did you want me to stay out of there so bad?"

"I didn't want you to know how I felt about you. It didn't seem fair, since you wouldn't tell me." Claire pushed the front of his hair back, her fingers trailing down the side of his face. "I love you, Peter," she said simply.

He kissed her again, and murmured, "I love you too" against her mouth.

She ground her hips up into his, very slowly.

He laughed softly. "You said it was too early."

"It is. But you woke me up, and now you must pay."

Peter wrapped his arms around her, and suddenly there was too much fabric separating his body from hers. She laughed when he wound the tangled sheets from her body, and tossed them to the floor.

-----

_With all of his abilities, with every superhuman feat he can accomplish, he's only a little surprised that the only thing he needs to achieve perfect happiness is a bed filled with sunshine and Claire._

_She throws a fit when he mentions that its time to get ready to go to the airport. Says she doesn't want to go. Says she's staying. He speaks quietly to her for a few minutes, and then she goes to get her bag._

-----

When Peter got home from the airport, he checked his email for the first time in weeks. A smile passed his face when he came to an email from Tani in his inbox.

Peter, how's it?

I know we said we'd email, and I know we said we'd never do it probably, and looks like we were right. But I saw your Bro on the television here the other day and thought of you. I just wanted to say what's up.

I'm back in Hawaii, where the weather is nice and the wind doesn't smell like piss. New York's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there again. Dr. Platte agreed, and held onto my couch and screamed when I told him it was time to go. He offered to be my cabana boy if I just let him live in my garage, but I don't have a pool, and the ladies would get the wrong idea.

Anyway, how's L.A.? I'm sorry we didn't get more time together before you left. I understand though, moving sucks and you were busy. Lionel says he hardly sees you. You must be working a lot.

I hope things are going well for you in your new job and new situation. I hope you aren't being too hard on yourself. You have good sense Peter. Remember when I told you that you're one of the good guys? You really are.

Chances are, your romantic circumstance has improved and/or otherwise resolved itself. If it hasn't, read the PS below.

Look me up if you're ever on the North Shore, my brother.

Tani P.

PS

I've been thinking about it a lot lately, and I think it's the right time for me to say this, since you've been away from New York for a couple months. I'm not your shrink, so what I say in this email is written to you as a friend.

You're a sensitive guy, Peter, and I know the last thing you'd do would be to take advantage of anything. You did the right thing by moving. I was real proud of you for that. But the situation you found yourself in was complicated, of course, but not so complicated that you should be miserable for the rest of your life.

There are quite a few couples that've been in the same position as you. After spending time apart (different homes, different cities), if they were absolutely unhappy and still disinterested in anyone besides their desired partner, some would recommend that they give it a try. I leave that decision up to you. Just remember two things. First, the consequences that we talked about. They're irreversible. Second, we don't choose who we truly love. It just is.

-----

Each of the Petrelli's had pieces of the puzzle, but not enough to get the picture.

The whole family was surprised when Claire abruptly decided to switch her major to marine biology the day she got back from Hawaii.

"Claire…you hate science," said Nathan

"Well, I don't hate it anymore," she answered perfunctorily. "I saw the marine life in Hawaii, and I really want to dedicate myself to that."

How could he argue with that? Nathan just shook his head, and had someone get in touch with the people at UCLA.

-----

_He buys a condo in the Valley. Twenty minutes from UCLA._

-----

Her roommate answered whenever Heidi called their room. She politely said that Claire was out, and she should try her cell phone. Every time.

Nathan said she was probably partying, but she brought home good grades at the Christmas break.

Heidi thought it was nice, having Claire and Peter back for Christmas. They had flown in together, taken a cab to the house together.

They both looked so relaxed, so…refreshed. Not at all like they'd been crumpled on a plane for six hours. Claire's hair was bouncing over her shoulders, her lips and cheeks pink. Peter looked years younger than the last time she'd seen him. Must be the California sunshine.

Heidi walked into the den on a Sunday afternoon and found the two of them watching television, giggling quietly about something. Their intimacy made her feel like she was intruding in her own house.

-----

_He's determined to make this more than a stolen moment. His commitment to that eclipses anything, everything he's ever cared about in his life before Her._

-----

Mrs. Petrelli came to California, on her way to visit some associates in Modesto. She stopped by the dorms to pick Claire up for a duty lunch.

She coldly surveyed the little dorm that Claire called home. Her roommate's side was covered with posters, clothes, bits of paper and notes.

Claire's wasi blank, and when Mrs. Petrelli asked for a drink of water, Claire opened the wrong cupboard door at first.

She didn't know what Claire was up to, but it wasn't happening in her dorm room.

-----

_He hasn't seen Lionel in months. He makes new friends, and doesn't introduce her as his niece._

-----

Nathan found her a nice little summer job, interning. He called to tell her.

"I'm staying in California for the summer."

"What?"

"I'm not going back to New York," said Claire.

"Where are you going to live?"

"A girl Peter knows from work needs a roommate."

He tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't even listen.

-----

_He worries that she's missing the college experience. He worries until she nestles into his lap, kisses him, and tells him that she knows what she's doing. And then he forgets._

-----

Claire came to New York for a few weeks the next summer. Unannounced, and pissed.

Nathan sent the boys to tell Claire that it was time to leave for dinner. They came downstairs and said that the door was locked, but they could hear Claire on the phone, yelling at someone.

Claire seemed distracted for the first two weeks she was there, until Peter arrived. He'd found a cheap flight for the weekend.

Nathan barely recognized Peter. He seemed happier than he'd ever seen him.

He asked about Peter's love life late one night. Peter just laughed.

-----

_Tani gets married that fall, and he takes her to the wedding in Hawaii. Tani is very kind, very welcoming, and doesn't blink when he sees her, doesn't seem surprised at all._

-----

Claire sasses Mrs. Petrelli over Christmas dinner the next year. In retaliation, Mrs. Petrelli asks about her studies.

"Are you hoping for a position at Sea World after you graduate?"

"Oh. Um, no. I actually…switched majors. Last spring."

Nathan put down his fork. "What?"

"Yeah, the sciences classes were just…too much. Like you said they'd be."

"What did you switch to?" asked Nathan.

"Sociology."

"That's what you were going to study at NYU. You could have done that here," said Nathan.

Claire shrugged.

That's when Peter cleared his throat loudly and changed the subject.

-----

_Tani said that they could have each other, or their family. Never both. He was right. Even though it's a little sad some days, Peter thought it would've been harder to give them up._

-----

Nathan hated L.A., but in Claire's senior year he was invited by the Governor, and had to go. He took her and Peter out for dinner while he was there.

She ate food of off Peter's plate, and Nathan was a little uncomfortable with the closeness he sensed more than saw between the two of them.

Then Peter had to go to work, so Nathan went to Claire's place until his flight left. Her small apartment was neat as a pin, beautifully decorated. The sheets on her bed had crisp hospital corners, the hand towels were fluffy and new.

Claire graduated that spring, but told Nathan that she wasn't walking, so they shouldn't come out for it.

-----

_The first time he kisses her in public is at her graduation. He hands her yellow roses, and then leans his lips to hers gently._

_The world doesn't end. It doesn't stop, or even stumble. Amid the chaos, no one notices, wouldn't care even if they did._

-----

It's been five years, and the Petrelli's have shared their puzzle pieces. Not in so many words, but they all have a clear view of the picture at this point.

Nathan never really knew his daughter. And now he realizes that he didn't know his brother either.

Some days Nathan gets angry about it. Really angry. Some days he'd like to call them up and scream at them, ask them if they know what the hell they're doing, if they have any idea how sick it is.

Instead, Nathan takes a page out of one of the Political Great's playbook, and implements a strict "Don't ask; Don't Tell" policy.

He hates the gnawing feeling in his stomach that tells him a confrontation wouldn't change their behavior at all.

-----

_That Christmas, he gives her a ring. She cries when she opens the little box. It doesn't really mean anything. It can't._

_But he wants her to have it all the same._

_She puts it on that day and hasn't taken it off since. _

_They're both pretending. Some days they do it so well that they forget they are._

_**-- fin --  
**_

**A/N** – thanks for reading, and I hope everyone liked this story. if you did, please leave me a review saying so. i'd very much appreciate it!

i wrote this story listening to the album _sam's town_ by the killers on repeat. almost every song is perfect for peter/claire, so i highly recommend that you check it out.


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